


Trans Napoleon Story I Have No Title For :)

by i_am_a_hog



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Character Study, Coming Out, Gen, Trans Male Character, Trans!Napoleon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22016992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_a_hog/pseuds/i_am_a_hog
Summary: Prompt was: Literally anything with trans!Napoleon.That's what I did.
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin & Napoleon Solo & Gaby Teller
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34
Collections: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. Winter Holiday Gift Exchange 2019





	Trans Napoleon Story I Have No Title For :)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TerresDeBrume](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerresDeBrume/gifts).



> Hey! I'm so so sorry for the late submission. I thought I was going to be able to write this before the deadline but then I got sick and depressed and had a terrible week and everything so yeah. Here it is. Sorry for the delay!  
> It's not my finest work but I tried my best to work with the prompt!! I hope you still like it!  
> (Please excuse any possible typos and stuff)

“Why do you have to act so stuck up?” people would ask him. “What do you have to prove, Napoleon?”

There was a reason Napoleon behaved like he did. There was a reason why he liked sharp suits and why he was careful to always keep up a sort of masculine swagger, even when he was in mortal danger. Somehow, he could never quite shake the feeling that people would always see some part of him, misguidedly, as a woman. It hadn’t happened in years. He was blessed enough with his height and his bone structure, that made him seem more traditionally masculine, even when he was doubting himself.

He hadn’t planned on sharing himself with anybody in the near future; he had built up a careful reputation as a playboy, as a man well versed in bed and in life, a master of survival. And most of the time, this reputation was enough, but sometimes things happened, that he couldn’t forsee, things he would like to ignore, but couldn’t bring himself to.

“You can get back on your horse now, Cowboy.”

Napoleon hadn’t even been mad at that rebuttal, because there was something about this giant man, something that made him both slightly insecure and also very much interested. Illya matched his wit almost too easily; he could keep up with Napoleon on every level and that was immensely intriguing.

_Sometimes_ , it happened that he had the urge to reveal himself completely to someone and mostly, he suppressed the urge and thanked himself later, because the people had turned out to be far less trustworthy than he would have thought. This time, he wasn’t so sure. Both Illya and himself had nearly died, if it wasn’t for the other coming to the rescue; Napoleon had to trust him. And this trust went far beyond whatever forced trust they had to have because of their orders and their professions in general. Of course, there was an inherent sort of trust to be had between partners on a mission. They had been chosen for a reason and that reason was that somehow their respective agencies had realized that they would fit together somehow. That it would work. But Napoleon had begun to trust Illya beyond that pretty quickly and the Russian had given him no reason to regret that choice.

Napoleon felt the same way about Gaby. They had just finished their third mission together and something about their joint strengths just clicked into place and made them work together. Napoleon could trust both of them with his life and even though he wasn’t sure why this urge to make himself completely known was there, but he wanted to tell them. Because what if something went wrong? What if one day he was severely injured and they had to take his shirt off to find the scars. What if he got captured and his friends found out from the enemy? What if he died? These thoughts were circulating in his mind for days until he decided to take action.

Gaby had ordered an expensive bottle of wine, which room service had promptly delivered to the door of Illya’s room, and even though wine was not Napoleon’s favourite drink, he could appreciate it every now and then.

“I have something to tell you,” he interrupted Illya and Gaby’s squabbling over some detail or another of the last case. They both looked at him expectantly, Illya from underneath frowning eyebrows and Gaby over the rim of her wine glass.

It was hard every time. After all those years, it was still hard.

“I’m trans.”

No immediate reaction.

“I’m a trans man and I figured, I’d tell you before you found out another way.”

Gaby nodded and took another sip of wine. Illya just stared. His frown had deepened, and Napoleon became even more anxious. What if he had misjudged the situation? He had been so sure they would both be supportive. Not that he was afraid Illya could hurt him; Napoleon knew he could take him in a fight. No, Napoleon was afraid of rejection.

“Is that a problem?” he asked into the silence. His voice was steadier than he would have expected it to be.

“It’s not,” Gaby said. “It doesn’t change anything. Thanks for telling us.”

Napoleon forced a smile.

When he met Illya’s eyes, he was prepared for a lot, but he couldn’t actually read them.

“I knew.”

“What?” Napoleon asked. Not so much _What did you know?_ and more _What did you just say?_

“I saw you.”

Napoleon just stared. Gaby had turned to look at Illya as well.

“On last mission. Istanbul. I saw scars on your chest, Cowboy.”

“Oh.”

“I said nothing because… is yours to say.”

All the anxiety, all the stress fell off of Napoleon’s heart and soul, he felt light, as if he could float and he couldn’t suppress a smile.

“Thank you, Peril.”

Illya nodded and took a sip of water.

“Does the CIA know?” Gaby asked.

“Obviously. It’s just one more thing they have on me.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” said Napoleon and ran a hand through his hair. It hadn’t been easy to convince the CIA to take him on at all after they found out. It spoke for his abilities, that they needed him badly enough to see beyond their transphobia.

“I would be dead,” Illya muttered quietly.

“I know.”

Their eyes met across the small space and Napoleon knew they were both thinking the same thing. _I’m glad you’re not dead after all._

The conversation changed into other directions afterwards. Nothing had changed except that Napoleon was quicker to smile and Illya seemed somewhat relieved. It was only when Gaby had already gone back to her room and Napoleon was just about to leave that Illya brought it up again. He was grinning at Napoleon as he called out for him.

“Cowboy?”

He stopped at the door. Illya was still sitting in the armchair, looking at him with that look, the one that Napoleon couldn’t really read. And then Illya said in the least judgmental way but with a slightly mockingly raised eyebrow:

“So you _chose_ Napoleon.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos & comments make me happy <3


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